


Club Overpass

by bang-the-smoke (708_things)



Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Asexual Brendon, Asexuality, Barely any smut, Brendon's not good, M/M, Probably very inaccurate, Really cringy fic tbh, Rich Ryan, Stripper Dallon, stripper Brendon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:33:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21598456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/708_things/pseuds/bang-the-smoke
Summary: The only thing Brendon really knows is the strip club. Ryan, a business man who is interested by him, wants to show him there is much more to life.Things don't go quite to plan.
Relationships: Brendon Urie/Dallon Weekes, Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
Kudos: 10





	1. Body Over Identity

**Author's Note:**

> old fic, cross-posted on wattpad. this one also sucks kind of.

There was no use in denying the fact that pole dancing was one of Brendon's greatest skills. It was either that, or his ability to charm people. However, Brendon knows better than anyone else that the two are linked.

His talent is what makes him the most popular stripper at Club Overpass. The club itself is popular, with at least a few hundred guests per night. Brendon never paid attention to the number of guests, though. In fact, he barely even focused on the faces.

To him, pole dancing and being a stripper was about putting on a show. While a lot of strippers focused their attention on guests, Brendon focused on his performance. If he didn't put on a good show, he wasn't going to get good money. It was as simple as that.

Brendon sighed, sitting down on the bench of the locker room within the club, waiting for his turn. His outfit consisted of a flashy robe over a skimpy outfit. The cape would be dramatically removed once he got to the pole, and well, from there on, it was really about the pole dancing.

The guests didn't care too much about what they were wearing. The purpose was for it to be incredibly exposing or just to be taken off. Brendon didn't care particularly about either option; it all depended on the performance he was going to do.

As he waited on the bench, the owner of the club made his way over to Brendon. His face was stern, as he examined Brendon's choice of clothing. "I normally trust your judgement, but this is getting ridiculous," he said, shaking his head.

"It's for dramatics, Mikey," Brendon defended himself. "Everyone loves the reveal part."

"Whatever," Mikey sighed. "You better not slack tonight. You're on in ten minutes." With that, Mikey quickly left.

As far as bosses go, Mikey was pretty lenient. It seemed like he never cared too much, which Brendon knew was the truth and a lie. To keep a club like this open, Mikey had to get funds from other sources. Yet, he hated the possibility of losing money.

He treated all the strippers fairly, but harshly as well. If they weren't bringing in enough cash, he booted them off. In general though, Brendon didn't feel threatened by that, because he was the favorite.

Time seemed to pass by quickly as Brendon took a few deep breaths. He was always afraid that one of these nights he would make a mistake he couldn't recover from. A mistake that could send him out to the streets.

"We saved the best for last, folks!" The announcer yelled. Brendon ignored the rest of his words, preparing himself for the show.

And then he was on. He stepped out of the locker room and strutted onto the stage. There was never a lot of noise coming from the guests, so he relied on their expressions to guage his performance. Right now, they looked excited, but weren't too interested.

Once Brendon made it to the pole, he ditched the robe. It was obvious from then on that he had everyone's attention.

Pole dancing itself was a skill. It took time and effort to become proficient, but Brendon has had a couple years of practice. He knows all the right ways to twist his body, the way to showcase himself.

Money began to drop onto the stage, guests cheering. Brendon couldn't focus on that. As he continued his performance, he looked out into the crowd.

He recognized some of them, because they often spent their time here, away from their partners. Others he didn't recognize because he didn't bother to pay attention to them. One guest stood out.

He was a young man, but seemed older than Brendon. His appearance was average; curly brown hair and brown eyes. But what stood out to him was his clothing. He wore a pristine black suit, and something about it just screamed rich to him.

In that moment, they exchanged eye contact. Brown eyes met brown. It felt different, in an odd way. Feeling strange, Brendon glanced away, focusing again on the pole.

Soon after, his time was up. He strutted off stage, letting out a breath. Every night was the same, but still so terrifying.

He was soon approached by Mikey, who was smiling, surprisingly. "Remind me to never doubt you," he said.

"I did great tonight, didn't I?" Brendon asked arrogantly, a hand on his hip.

Mikey nodded. "Of course. They're picking up all the money right now. By the look of things, it could be over a thousand."

Even that seemed confusing to Brendon. "I was only out for twenty minutes," he pointed out.

"Big money in the crowd," Mikey shrugged. "Don't spend too much time thinking about it. Just accept it."

And he would. Brendon had known since he started working here that he would just have to accept some things without question.

He changed back into his normal clothes. He sighed, wiping some sweat from his forehead. Once he was ready, he left the locker room.

"Urie, this man said he would like to talk to you," another stripper said.

"My shift's over," Brendon pointed out.

"I believe that won't be an issue," the man said. At that moment, Brendon turned to him and realized who he was. It was the man he had noticed during his performance.

"I see," Brendon replied. He turned to the stripper, who had noticed the cue to leave. Now he was left with the man.

"It's nice to meet you," the man said, placing his hand out for a handshake. "My name's Ryan Ross."

Brendon shook his hand awkwardly, as he wasn't used to guests being all formal around him. "Ryan Ross, the business tycoon?"

Ryan grinned. "The very same. And you?"

"Why does my identity matter?" Brendon questioned softly. "In this business, it's all about the body."

"I see value in you that others cannot," Ryan said sternly. "Now, what is your name?"

"Brendon Urie," he replied, staring into his eyes fiercly. He wasn't going to back down from a challenge, no matter how intimidating this man appeared.

"Nice to meet you, Brendon."


	2. Complicated Situations

This situation was so foreign. Never had any of the guests been interested in him before. Well, interested by more than the skills he possessed, at least.

"What is it that you want?" Brendon's words were uttered harshly. He crossed his arms expectantly, staring at the man.

"I just want to talk," Ryan explained slowly, lifting his hands in the air calmly. "Is that such a crime?"

Brendon's eyes narrowed. While it certainly wasn't, he still wasn't really up for this chat. "Then talk."

"I want to get to know you," Ryan admitted, stepping closer to him. Brendon placed a hand to his chest, pushing him back slightly. He seemed to understand his silent plea: _don't touch me._

It's not that he's trying to be unapproachable. It's just that he sees nothing good coming from this situation. "You don't have to play it off like that. If you want to fuck, just say it."

Ryan chuckled awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. It was clear to him that fucking was certainly on the realm of possibilities in Ryan's mind; if it hadn't, he would've acted less like a school girl and more like the confident business man he was. "That's not what I mean."

"But you wouldn't be opposed to it."

He had him caught there, and both of them knew it. Ryan looked up at him confidently, a look he would rather see. Confidence was attractive, at any rate. "Would you be opposed?"

"Yes," Brendon answered, almost offended by the question.

Ryan seemed to be taken aback, shock in his features. A hand fluttered down to the pockets of his trousers, pulling out a wallet practically overflowing with bills. "I can pay handsomely," he stammered, hurriedly opening it, hands skimming past the money.

"I'm a stripper, Ross, not a prostitue," Brendon seethed, his jaw clenched. This was practically the one thing guests could do to offend him. Strippers don't get paid to get fucked, they get paid to show themselves, and Brendon is certainly fine with showing himself off. Fucking is a different manner entirely.

Noticing he offended him, Ryan tried to apologize. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that! Honest."

Brendon sneered, getting prepared to turn away from him. "Sure you didn't." With that, he calmly walked away, leaving the business man to stare at his receding figure.

He had been amused before, possibly interested, but Ryan Ross had shown his character, had shown he was not different than anyone else. As he walked to his apartment, Brendon thought all about how corrupt the world is for a man to think he would sell his dignity for money. He may need money, but not that desperately. There would always be other ways.

\---

He woke up the next morning to his phone ringing. He sighed, picking it up and answering the call. "Hello?"

"Brendon... Can I ask you for tips?" The voice on the phone pleaded softly. It takes a moment for him to register exactly who it is, and then it hits him. It's Gerard Way, another stripper. He's the older brother of Mikey, the owner of the club, but that doesn't change anything. Mikey doesn't treat him any different.

But it didn't make sense to him why Gerard is in this business at all. But, he minded his own business instead of asking questions.

"Tips?" Brendon asked, sitting up and yawning.

"How to get the guests to like you..." Gerard said, trailing off into his thoughts. "I mean, you are the most popular..."

"I don't have tips on that," Brendon answered, frowning as he thought over it. "Some people just naturally have it down, you know?"

"Arrogant ass," Gerard snarled at him, feeling insulted. "I ask one favor, and you act holier-than-thou and above me. One day, you'll be at the bottom and I will be there to mock you at your worst."

It was too early in the morning for him to deal with this shit. "Fuck off," he sighed. As expected, Gerard ended the call.

He normally got along well with the other strippers, and he had never sensed hostility from them. Maybe they all were envious of his success? It's hard to tell what kind of things people talk about behind your back, but Gerard's conversation had enlightened him.

He doesn't see it as competition, but maybe he should. It's not like he has options other than the club...

Brendon gets himself ready to go back to the club. He leaves his apartment and makes his way to Club Overpass. The building is nice, but not too nice. A neon sign with purple lettering reads _Club Overpass._ It seems so plain, yet the sole answer to everything.

He entered. He makes his way to the dressing room, where he is once again approached by Mikey. At first, he debated the possibility of Gerard running his mouth to him, but he's not sure if he has the relationship to do that. For all anyone knows, for all they can see, Mikey and Gerard are only similar by that shared surname. They certainly aren't close.

"Ross bought a private lap dance from you after you left," Mikey informed him. "I assured him he would receive that after tonight's performance."

For Brendon, lap dances were a different matter. Lap dances weren't similar to performances in any way, and he almost detested them. But lap dances were part of the job, so no matter how much he hated them, he would have to do it anyway.

Giving Ryan Ross a lap dance didn't seem pleasant either. None of the lap dances he gave guests were, but at least then he was confident they cared more about the way it would feel. For all he knew, Ryan could've orchestrated this in order to talk more. And Brendon truly didn't want to talk to him, plain and simple.

Brendon nodded at him. "He will. I'll take a few minutes break in the locker room and then find him."

Then, Mikey was gone, and Brendon once again prepared for his performance. 


	3. "Ethics" And What Money Can Get You

After the performance, Brendon made sure to locate Ryan. Although he was reluctant to do so, he didn't want to get in trouble for not fulfilling one of his duties.

He approached Ryan, tapping him on the shoulder. "Shall we go to the private room?"

"I suppose," Ryan replied indifferently. Brendon showed him the way, allowing him to enter the room first. "What's the actual point of these rooms?"

"Most men like privacy," Brendon answered, confused by why he asked. He can't be that dumb if he's a business man, right?

"It's more for the stripper's benefit, isn't it?" Ryan rambled, sitting down onto one of the chairs. "I know a lot of men also like people watching, so it's about protecting the strippers."

"Is the concept of dignity so strange to you?" Brendon snapped, before remembering his place. "Sorry."

Ryan shook his head, staring at him heatedly. "I don't mind arguing."

There was something about it that made Brendon feel uneasy. He pushed it aside and placed himself down on him. His legs went on either side of Ryan's body. Ryan's hands flew up to his hips. Brendon smacked them away, scowling. "No touching."

"Come on," Ryan sighed. "I paid good money for this."

Brendon was annoyed. He liked his own space and didn't like people touching him. Most guests didn't even bother trying, as his reputation preceded him. Brendon was one of the few strippers who didn't try to encourage it in any way.

Knowing his attitude would get him in trouble, Brendon shook his head but decided not to comment. Luckily, Ryan apparently knew to let it go.

Brendon silently moved against him, slowly and teasingly. Despite his lack of experience outside paid work, he knew exactly how to make people more desperate. He could tell, as time went on, how he was affecting Ryan, other than the obvious reason which he felt beneath him.

It felt uncomfortable, as it always did. Brendon bided his time, before he stood up. He crossed his arms and stared at Ryan sternly. "Time's up."

"That's it?" Ryan asked, shocked and even a little bit appalled. "I didn't even get off!"

"I'm a stripper, not a prostitute," Brendon snapped, repeating his earlier words. How many times did he have to repeat himself?

"Whatever," Ryan sighed, rolling his eyes. He stood up from the chair, a noticeable problem in his pants. He adjusted his dress shirt to cover it. He stormed out of the room, leaving Brendon standing there.

Brendon felt slightly anxious. Clearly he wasn't satisfied, so would he complain to Mikey? There was always the possibility.

Nobody else had booked a lap dance from him, so Brendon went to the locker room. As he dressed, his friend and fellow stripper, Dallon, approached him.

"You did great out there tonight," Dallon said, hovering by him.

"Oh, thanks," Brendon replied distantly, not even turning to acknowledge his presence.

Dallon was not intimidated or put off by this. He bit his lip, waiting for when he would finish.

Once Brendon was done, he finally turned. He realized that Dallon seemed kind of nervous. Instantly, he felt the overwhelming desire to help him calm down. "What's wrong?" Brendon asked softly.

"Nothing's wrong," Dallon lied, scratching his neck. He averted his gaze to the ground as he cleared his throat and said, "I was just wondering if you'd... be interested in going out for dinner this weekend?"

"Like a date?" Brendon questioned, his eyes wide.

"Like a date," Dallon confirmed. His cheeks flushed red as Brendon continued to scrutinize him. It was only then that he realized he was serious.

"Dallon, you're a nice guy and all, but I don't believe in dating co-workers," Brendon explained slowly. To him, it was a slight stretch of the truth. Brendon just doesn't date people, period.

"Oh," Dallon replied, and his voice sounded so quiet, so upset. It made Brendon feel awful. He genuinely thought Dallon was a good guy, and if he were normal, he would probably give this a shot. But Brendon isn't. He hasn't been the same since he was seventeen, and now he's just the worse version of who he once was. He's the cold, distant man who realized life never really works out in your favor. He's the cold, distant man who can't feel anything for anyone.

Brendon leaned forward and brought him into a hug. "Dallon, I'm so sorry."

"No, I'm sorry." Dallon shook his head, looking so lost. He chuckled sadly. "I really thought you saw me that way... I was a fool. Of course you didn't see me."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Brendon insisted, patting his back. "One day, you'll meet someone who'll sweep you off your feet. It just won't be me."

Dallon nodded, pulling away from the hug. "Okay. Well, I'm going to get going now and pity myself."

Brendon frowned out of concern. "Alright... We'll still be pals, okay?"

"Yeah."

With that, Dallon walked away from him and out of the locker room. After a brief moment, he walked out of the locker room as well. That interaction had been upsetting to him, too.

As he was about to walk out of the club, he was suddenly approached by Ryan. Since he was already upset, he couldn't even hold back his temper. "You're still here?"

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Anyway, as I was about to say: I tried interrogating your boss but apparently it's unethical," he mimed quotation marks over unethical, "to give out employee's information."

"Why the fuck are you confused by ethics if you literally own businesses?" Brendon shot back at him, scowling.

"As if a strip club is a serious business," Ryan scoffed. He crossed his arms and stared at him sternly. "For that terrible excuse of a lap dance, I think I deserve the right of knowing your phone number."

Brendon was in disbelief. What the hell was wrong with this man? There was no point to even considering to indulge him, as Ryan didn't deserve shit. Additonally, he could tell Mikey about this or security. Anything to get out of this situation.

Yet, Brendon knew money could get people out of any situation. Ryan could literally get over the issue simply due to pulling out his wallet, so he thought of a compromise. "If I give you my number, you can't come back to the club."

Ryan considered this, his lips pursing. He looked Brendon up and down, smirking to himself. "Alright, I agree. Number, please."

"You got a pen or marker?"

Ryan looked disgusted, but pulled out a pen from his pocket. Brendon smiled, raising his sleeve to reveal his arm, writing down his number.

"Now can you leave me alone?" Brendom whined, handing him back the pen.

"Certainly."

Ryan left, like promised. Brendon thought about the situation, reaching one conclusion.

He hated Ryan fucking Ross.

He left Club Overpass bitterly.


	4. Waffle House Shenanigans

In the morning, Brendon woke up to a text from an unknown number. Clearly Ryan's. He groaned.

**xxx-xxx-xxxx: Let's have breakfast. I'm paying.**

**Brendon: Do I have much of a choice?**

**Ryan: Probably not.**

Brendon hated arrogant, rich people. But there were some benefits, he supposed. Free breakfast did seem appealing, considering his hunger and his lack of food in his apartment at the moment.

**Brendon: Fine.**

Half an hour later, the two met up at Waffle House. Brendon had specifically requested no fancy shit, so Ryan just naturally picked Waffle House. What is trashy to Ryan is honestly treasure to Brendon. Don't hate till you try their hashbrowns, man.

Naturally, Ryan tried to initiate conversation while they waited for their food. "So, why'd you become a stripper?"

Brendon was not expecting such a loaded question this early in the morning. He took a long, uncomfortable sip of water. "Why did you become a business man?" he retorted, avoiding the question.

"It was passed down from my father," Ryan said, with a dull tone. "Answer the question, please."

"I don't think I am required to tell you that."

"Well, I'm the one paying for breakfast, so... It kind of goes my way."

Brendon wanted to scream because it didn't work that way. What kind of answer was he expecting? The only reason people become a stripper is because of financial reasons that were probably caused by their tragic backstory. Recalling his own past made Brendon want to weep, honestly, so he was pondering whether or not Ryan got off on other people's misery.

"I was kicked out of my parent's house when I was sixteen," Brendon answered glumly. "There's not many options when you can't finish high school."

"Why'd you get kicked out?" Ryan questioned, tilting his head. He was honestly the most socially inept person Brendon had ever met. You don't just ask random strangers this kind of stuff!

Brendon wanted to refuse answering, but Ryan did always get his way. That's why he had received Brendon's number in the first place. He sighed heavily. "They were Mormon, and I was gay and atheist. You do the math."

At that moment, their waiter came by with their food, placing their plates down. Brendon was totally ready to demolish those hashbrowns, until the waiter tapped his shoulder. He looked up, momentarily confused until he handed him a small slip of paper. One glance down at it confirmed that it was his number.

He winked at him, and then strutted off to continue doing his job. At least he was somewhat professional. He could respect that. As soon as the waiter was gone, he crumpled up the paper

Ryan stared at him with interest, before picking up his fork and knife to cut his waffle. "Why didn't you consider him? I mean, you _are_ gay."

"First, I'm not attracted to every guy I meet," Brendon calmly responded. "And secondly, romantic attachment isn't very ideal with my occupation."

He left it at that, and started eating. Even if Ryan did want to ask another question, he could always shrug him off by saying he was trying to finish his meal. Who knew food was a good replacement for uncomfortable conversation.

He finished before Ryan, wiping his mouth with a napkin. For a moment, he then thought back to all the information he had revealed. It was truly the only way to get Ryan to shut up, but he regretted it. He already knew too much for his liking.

"Why did you want to know all that?" Brendon questioned, genuinely curious.

Ryan swallowed his mouthful of food. "I told you before that I want to get to know you."

"Yeah, but why?"

"Because this is a fanfiction and I have to be immediately interested in you to move the plot along."

"What?"

"I said that you just interested me."

Interest was a complicated thing. Normally, it's actually a good thing in the business. He can normally play on that to get guests to throw more cash, but to be interested to this extent was threatening. Brendon had no idea what Ryan truly wanted. He had suggested fucking, but that's always what Brendon thinks people want from him.

"I can't say the same about you." Brendon replied, after a long moment about thinking. "I saw you for what you are the first moment we made eye contact. You've only proven my assumptions over time."

"Assumptions." Ryan paused, dropping his fork on the plate. It made a slight clanging noise, but for some reason, Brendon was more fixated on Ryan than the normally distracting sound. There was something about his expression that stood out to him. Ferociousness and self confidence. "You're assuming things. Just as I don't know you, you don't know me. Don't just _assume_ that you do."

"You think I'll be impressed with what I'll learn about you if we get to know each other?" Brendon laughed, genuinely. What a funny joke.

"I think there are two sides to everyone," Ryan said, apparently not thrown off by his laughter. "I'm not just some arrogant, rich guy who doesn't understand the struggles of the lower class."

"Ryan, you suggested going all the way downtown just to get fucking breakfast. I think you're slightly out of touch," Brendon retorted, almost glaring. Sure, maybe he did assume what Ryan was like, but it's not like he made it hard to.

"They have good pie," Ryan argued, glaring as well.

"The poor can't afford the gas to get anywhere they want!" Brendon exclaimed, almost standing up dramatically. Almost.

"They do if they want good fucking pie!"

Brendon shook his head in disbelief. There was no way to get through to him. Ryan Ross, the man born with a fucking silver spoon in his mouth, could never understand. He had always been rich because of his father. There was never a day he worked all damn night just so he can survive. Survival, for him, was never an issue.

Fuck capitalism, Brendon thought to himself.

"Fine. I'll agree to give you a chance. If you don't impress me, you have to admit you were wrong and also buy me Waffle House hashbrowns for life," Brendon suddenly proposed, holding out his hand in front of him.

"And if I win?"

"You get the satisfaction of being right and impressing me."

Ryan hesitated, before shaking his hand. Brendon could taste the hashbrowns already.


	5. The Guilt with Kissing

Over the next few weeks, Brendon and Ryan spent time together. Ryan had only proved to be a bit more than just the rich kid stereotype. While he tried to convince Brendon that he was more than just an overflowing wallet, he also tried to woo him romantically.

Brendon was starting to get used to elaborate bouquets of flowers laying beside the door to his apartment. He was even getting used to the romantic notes Ryan put beside them. Yet, they couldn't conjure even the slightest of butterflies in his stomach. He never blushed, or even really outwardly showed that he liked them.

But he did, in a way. He appreciated the gesture.

Rose petals were delicate, just like his heart. And he surely wasn't planning on giving that away.

During this time, Dallon mustered up the courage to still hang around with him, despite his embarrassment. It was clear to Brendon that his infatuation still hadn't gone away. He felt bad for him.

Every night after they were done stripping, they would talk to each other before going home. Tonight, Brendon was feeling kind of excited. Apparently Ryan had a surprise for him, and the possibilites were endless.

"Do you got any plans for tomorrow?" Dallon asked, shutting his locker.

"Yeah, going out again with Ryan," Brendon answered. He didn't notice Dallon's face falling. But then again, even if he did, what would he have done?

"You two are really getting on," Dallon laughed sadly. It was clear this was hurting him.

"Don't be sad. He doesn't mean anything to me," he explained. He turned to face his friend, who still looked sad.

"You don't care for anyone, do you?"

"I didn't say that." In one quick movement, he pressed his lips against Dallon's eager ones. It seemed Dallon forgot about the situation, as he pulled Brendon closer, resting his hands on his hips.

Brendon didn't know why he did it. He didn't love Dallon, and he wasn't interested in sex either. He figured that maybe he was trying to make him feel better, but wouldn't it do the opposite?

Dallon pulled away first, his eyes snapping open. He also removed his hands. "Brendon," he breathed.

"God, I'm sorry," he apologized. He turned away from him.

"Why'd you do that?"

Brendon felt guilt rise up in him. "I thought it would make you feel better," he choked out. "I'm sorry for playing with your feelings."

"It's fine," Dallon replied distantly. "Just... I didn't mind that."

He was confused. "What?"

"If I can't have you, can we just pretend a little?" Dallon practically begged. His pleading eyes and beautiful mouth is what set him off. He pulled Dallon in, kissing him with all he had. If this is what he wanted, he would give it to him.

Besides, Brendon knew himself. He knew his plan with Ryan, how he was going to mess with him. This was just him reassuring Dallon he felt nothing for Ryan. Besides, he couldn't deny how good it was to kiss him.

Brendon had never kissed Ryan, mainly because he had blocked his advances. He hasn't really kissed anyone like this since he was a teen. He remembered why he used to love it so much.

He broke the kiss, panting. "Yeah, I don't mind pretending."

Dallon sent him a shy smile, and it still felt wrong. God, he was leading Dallon on. He probably thought he could warm Brendon up to the idea of dating, but the truth was, he couldn't. He just kissed Dallon because it was fun.

The two parted ways after that. Brendon tried to distract himself with thoughts about tomorrow, but he couldn't stop thinking about Dallon.

\---

"Where are we going?" Brendon asked, frowning as he realized that he didn't recognize their surroundings anymore.

"I'm taking you somewhere beautiful," Ryan explained smoothly. "It makes me think of you."

Brendon rolled his eyes. "Okay."

Half an hour later, Ryan finally stopped driving. He parked his car, a fucking red Ferrari, and got out. He went over to Brendon's side and opened the door for him like a gentleman. Brendon got out, and still couldn't stop the negative thoughts about him.

Clearly, Ryan was trying to impress. Though he was probably trying to hide it, there was an obvious look of nervousness on his face. He led Brendon to the sand, and gestured straight ahead.

The waves were beautiful, crashing against the sand peacefully. Brendon grinned, observing the scenery. Ross truly knew where to have a "date". He nearly snorted at the thought.

"Does it live up to your expectations?" Ryan asked eagerly, taking his smile as a good sign.

"I think I'm more beautiful," Brendon joked, shrugging. "But it's close."

"Yeah," Ryan agreed, walking closer to him. They were now standing side by side, and he made the move to grab Brendon's hand.

Brendon swatted his hand away. For once, there was a consequence for rejecting him so harshly. "Are my feelings a joke to you?" Ryan growled.

Brendon thought about Dallon. Was Dallon thinking this about him right now, regretting the kisses? If he did, he certainly had the right.

As for Ryan, well... He wasn't sympathetic. "No," Brendon answered. "Well, kind of. I don't think you like me as much as you think you do."

"Oh, really?" Ryan crossed his arms, a scowl on his face. "Enlighten me."

"You don't know me at all. You think I'm just some pretty young thing for you to fuck. There is a line between lust and love." Brendon gulped, thinking to himself about what happened the previous night. "You are dancing around it."

"I'm not, Bren," Ryan said softly. His change in tone was creepy. How had he lost his anger that quickly? Secondly, when the fuck did he give him a nickname?

Ryan brought him close, their chests touching. "I think you're just scared," he whispered. "I think you're too scared, too hurt to accept the fact that someone loves you for who you are."

Great. Now he was turning Brendon into a charity case. Besides, Ryan didn't love him like that. He didn't even completely know him, so how could he love him for who he is? The only person still in his life that knows him that intimately is Dallon. He had no reason to doubt Dallon's feelings, because they were still there after he messed with him last night.

Brendon realized being defiant wouldn't lead anywhere. Though he loathed to admit it, he did have to pretend to like him to some extent for everything to work out. "I'm not scared," he denied.

"Shh," Ryan said, pressing a finger to Brendon's lips. "I understand. Soon, you will accept what is in front of you. We'll go slow."

Brendon was grateful he didn't try to kiss him. That would come eventually, but to be honest, kissing just made him think of Dallon. He was just thinking about Dallon all the time now, wasn't he?

Kissing was complicated like that. It's always on your mind. Kissing is just not normally accompanied by a guilty feeling in your stomach.

Brendon nodded. "I'm sorry," he said, and wished he was saying it to his friend.

"It's okay." There was a smile on Ryan's face now. "Now, let's go have some fun."

"That depends on what you qualify as fun," Brendon reminded him. Ryan laughed at that.

Apparently his snarky side was becoming endearing now. God save him.

Sometimes, Brendon did wonder if he was really the asshole for what he was planning to do to Ryan.


	6. Ryan Is A (Sad) Sugar Daddy

Brendon hated cliché's. He hated the fact that an outsider could claim that he was in a love triangle. He hated that the situation had somehow changed without his knowledge.

When he decided his plan with Ryan, he didn't account for Dallon. If he keeps this up with him, he also has to make sure Ryan never finds out. That wasn't the way he wanted to break Ryan's heart, though it would do the same thing.

Ryan kept taking him out on dates every once in a while, when Brendon caught a break from Club Overpass. Somehow, that was happening more than normal. There was never a normal schedule with his off days, but he was getting them more and more. It seemed suspicious, because supposedly he was the best stripper there, but he dropped the matter.

One night, a night where Brendon actually came over to his place, Dallon revealed he worked more than he did at this point. "Gerard's getting more and more of an audience," he told Brendon, like a reporter.

Brendon was happy for him, considering that outburst he had about wanting more success. "Good for him."

"Yeah... Mikey says he might even take first place," Dallon added, biting his lip. Did he think he would get angry or something?

"That's crazy. He asked me for tips like a month ago," Brendon recalled, remembering how angry he had unintentionally made Gerard back then. Oh well. He was probably over it.

"You don't care?" Dallon questioned, leaning in closer.

"Nah, why should I?"

"You're losing money if he becomes more popular," he pointed out. In the past, Brendon may have been concerned about this. Money had been, has been, important, especially since he was living on his own. But recently, he found less of a need for it.

"Don't need much money anymore, darling," Brendon smirked, feeling satisfied by watching his cheeks get a red glow to them. "I've got a rich guy pampering me. The kids call it a sugar daddy, right?"

Dallon looked appalled. He sputtered, "I suppose they do." Then, it was like he suddenly had an epiphany. "Oh, is that why you're with him?"

"It's a factor."

Dallon understood the hustle, understood the need for money. Yet, he couldn't help but be confused as he remembered Brendon's limitations, or "morals" as he called them. "Don't sugar daddies want sex?"

"That's the best part. Ryan doesn't know that's what he is, and doesn't expect sex," Brendon chuckled. Dallon suddenly looked upset, but he wasn't sure why. He pulled Dallon closer to him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Dallon said, flashing a smile. It felt like a lie, but Brendon couldn't focus on that as the man's lips crashed on his. What a fun game this was.

Brendon loved games.

\---

Later that night, he was with Ryan. Ryan seemed to be in a bad mood, and didn't seem enthusiastic about trying to impress him. This was the first time he has been over at his house, or mansion, rather, and it all felt gloomy.

Ryan looked like a ghost when he led him through the house. His skin was pasty white, and his hair was disheveled. "Are you okay?" Brendon frowned.

He paused, and stopped moving. "I will be," he answered. Then, he continued walking, Brendon following him. They went up a set of stairs and made it to a room, a room that he guessed to be his bedroom.

"Um, I don't really feel comfortable..." Brendon trailed off, biting his lip as he realized this would probably worsen Ryan's mood. An unhappy Ryan led to an unhappy Brendon.

"It's not like that," Ryan sighed, defeated. "Just trust me."

He owed him that. Brendon swallowed his fear and went inside the room, watching as the man followed and sat down on his comfortable bed. It was a king sized bed, and took up most of the room. The room itself was actually rather small, with light blue walls and a carpeted floor.

Confused by the lack of furniture but the bed, Brendon asked, "Is this your sex chamber or some shit?"

That earned him a chuckle. He was actually glad he did that. He honestly wasn't liking this upset Ryan. It was strange how often people were sad around him. Hm. "This is just the room where I sleep," Ryan sighed. "I have another room as the sex chamber."

Brendon laughed, and he was left with a smile on his face. "You're so beautiful," Ryan told him, sitting up slightly. "Do you know that?"

He wished his heart didn't stutter, wished that he hadn't let out a quiet gasp. He wished he wasn't effected by this, because really, he knew this, didn't he? He's a stripper because he's conventionally attractive, so why does his words have this kind of effect on him? Brendon gulped, and shook his head.

Ryan's gaze on him seemed to soften, as he patted the spot next to him. "Lay down with me, please," he requested.

Brendon did just that, getting into the bed. It was definitely comfier than his own. The moment he got situated, he felt Ryan's arms go around him. Then, he felt his head on his shoulder. At first, he felt uncomfortable, but then realized he missed cuddling. Hm. Maybe he should try this with Dallon sometime, too.

He allowed Ryan to do this. "Are you tired?" he asked.

Ryan nodded, sighing into his shoulder. Brendon started to mess with his hair, trying to be comforting. It seemed to have the desired effect, as he watched Ryan fall asleep on him.

He knew he didn't have work tomorrow either, so he knew it was okay for him to spend the night here. If Ryan was someone who slept in, then he might just go explore his home. Although he probably wasn't. He assumed the businessman had a lot of his own stuff going on, but he tended not to think about that. Call him self-centered, but he was always more focused on himself.

Brendon let out a sigh, pressing a kiss to Ryan's head. He told himself it was just part of the game. And he told himself that he was just spending the night because this bed worked miracles on his back.

He didn't know if it was a lie or not.


	7. Hesitations And Love

He's not sure where he stands anymore. It's not a tug of war; it's more like a headache that won't go away. Though it seems like he's in the middle, it's more like Ryan being alone on an island while he treads closer and closer to Dallon.

He doesn't want feelings. Love is so complicated, and he knows this clearer than most do. Love is letting someone else be more important than you, and when you're so used to being alone like Brendon is, it seems impossible. How can you allow someone to have that much power over you?

And if he is falling for Dallon, how is he going to be able to continue with Ryan?

But maybe he isn't. Maybe being close with him just makes him feel like it. He's sure if he gets close to Ryan, he might even be convinced he loves Ryan.

Brendon is still confused by the whole mess of it all, so he ignores it. It's easy for him to distract himself when his time is occupied by Club Overpass, Ryan, and Dallon.

The club's atmosphere has changed over time. The anticipation he used to feel is substituted to a feeling of dread, because although he had seemed confident about not caring, he still worries about being beaten by Gerard for the title of most popular. Stripping may not be a profession to be proud of, but it beats selling himself. That's what being with Ryan would be like.

The idea of being pampered was strange. Sure, it seemed nice, but Brendon would feel uncomfortable with it, because stripping is what he knows. Being paid for company sounds too much like prostitution, and he had never liked the idea of it.

For a while, he balances work and two men. Ryan takes him out more, and becomes less of an asshole. He's less demanding, but still makes his feelings known.

Things with Dallon were great as well, if he pretends. As time passes, he can tell Dallon is getting tired of just having him for a short time. Brendon knows the arrangement would hurt him, but he couldn't really stop it either. But he can't stand the way he looks sometimes, with that sad, almost heartbroken look in his eyes.

He has to make a decision soon, but for now, he allows Ryan to keep wooing him.

\---

They are on another date the next night. Ryan has an antsy look in his eyes. "What is it?" he asked.

"Can I kiss you?" Ryan asked nervously, biting his lower lip. It was cute to see him nervous, and not so demanding. If he just went for the kiss without asking, Brendon probably would've smacked him.

"Yeah," Brendon replied, knowing his part. The next thing he knew, he felt Ryan's lips press on his. It feels different compared to when Dallon kisses him.

Dallon kisses him passionately, but there's always the undertone of sadness. The "I can't have you, but this is what I'll take" kind of sadness.

Ryan doesn't have to deal with that, because he really doesn't know anything else is going on. He kisses Brendon carefully, like he's scared of messing up.

Brendon pulled away first, looking at him. Ryan still hadn't opened his eyes, but he knew how he would look. A blissful expression would be on his face, and there might just be a smirk. Because he thinks he proved Brendon wrong, but not really. He's just indulging him.

And then he does open his eyes. There is no smirk on his face, but he definitely looked happy. "That was so..." Ryan trailed off.

"So amazing?" Brendon raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, probably."

Ryan chuckled, hitting him playfully. "So you're the one with the ego, hm?"

Brendon laughed along with him, relaxing. He didn't think about the problem he's going through, or the fact that he has to choose.

Ryan pulled him in for another kiss, wrapping his arms around his waist. His own go around Ryan's shoulders. The only thing that could possibly ruin this moment is Brendon's intentions.

Wouldn't it be better for the both of them if he just tells Ryan? That way, Ryan could move on, and he would stop feeling so guilty. He pretended like Dallon wasn't part of the equation, but he had been the primary reason why he even debated telling Ryan his nefarious plan.

When Ryan pushed away, and Brendon is looking at him again, he can't do it. The words don't fall from his mouth, because as he looked at him, he realized that Ryan was glowing. If he didn't know any better, he would say he is Ryan's only happiness.

Though it seemed farfetched, it also seemed true. He didn't want to crush him, ultimately didn't want to hurt him. His plan was designed to break his heart, but Brendon realized he doesn't really feel joy from doing that. He remembered the way he's breaking Dallon's heart right now, and it's not a pretty sight.

Knowing your own actions led to someone being so devastated is torturous. He doesn't want to see Ryan like that, see his face fall or his playful lips even form a frown. So, he doesn't tell Ryan about his plan, but also doesn't know if he's still continuing with it.

After he left, he decided he needed clarity. It probably wouldn't make sense to anyone else, but he needed to know if his affections have changed. He had sworn to himself that he hated Ryan, that he was a scumbag desperate for whatever Brendon had to give him. He thought Ryan had his own malicious plans, but that just wasn't true.

He knocked on his apartment door, watching as Dallon answered, rubbing his eyes gently. Brendon's so happy to see him, like his heart is going to burst. "Bren?" Dallon asked.

Brendon doesn't waste time. He pulled Dallon closer to him and kissed him, hoping that it still made him feel the same thing.

He can tell Dallon's hesitant, probably because he has no idea what he's up to, but he'll deal with that later. The kiss is full to the brim with affection, and Brendon knows it now. He knows how he feels. He knows that kissing him isn't only good for having fun.

Dallon pushed him away slightly, an upset look on his face. "Why do you keep playing with me?" he sighed. "It's not fun anymore."

He wanted to remedy this, wanted to make him happy again. Heartbreak didn't look good on him. "I love you," he said, and it wasn't a lie.

Dallon flinched, stepping back. He looked horrified. "I didn't think you would stoop that low," he muttered.

He's confused by that, but then realizes Dallon thinks he really is messing with him. "No," Brendon replied, shaking his head. "I mean it, I swear. I wouldn't tell you that if I didn't mean it."

Dallon doesn't look completely convinced. "Can I think about this in the morning?" he asked. "It's really late."

Brendon nodded, smiling. "Of course. Good night, Dal." For a second, he hesitated, before adding, "I love you."

Dallon smiled slightly. "I love you too, Bren. You know I do."

And then he goes back inside, leaving Brendon on his doorstep. Brendon is excited, because he's got everything figured out.


	8. Selling Yourself to Victory

The next day, Brendon actually had a shift that night at Club Overpass. Strangely enough, the club was the farthest thing from his mind these days.

When he walked into the locker room, he knew something had changed. His fellow strippers normally greeted him, encouraged him to do his best out there. And Brendon would do the same for them; they were all in the same boat, so Brendon always gave special attention to everyone.

This time, nobody really talked to him while everyone got prepared for the show tonight. Dallon was the only one, and he was still acting a bit weird around him. Dallon didn't really have time to think over what Brendon had said the previous night.

"What's going on?" Brendon asked him, frowning as he opened his locker.

"You're not the favorite anymore," Dallon told him. "The others only cared about you because of that."

Brendon's gaze went around the locker room as he got ready. He knew exactly who to look for, based on old information. The man's dyed red hair made him stick out like a sore thumb, and from over here, Brendon could see the smirk on his face. The other strippers were crowded around him, like he was their new savior. Gerard only indulged them, and Brendon made the connection: he really took over Brendon's place.

And that was okay. Brendon didn't really care about being number one, though it certainly did use to boost his ego. It's all about the money, as it always has been.

Because of this, Brendon's show is lined up before. Gerard's is saved for last, as the expression goes best for last. Brendon told himself he wasn't upset.

Brendon took a deep breath when it was his turn to go. He exited the locker room and made his way to the stage. The applause that greeted him didn't roar as loud as it used to. Still, he felt their eyes on him, and that was enough to get him to play his part.

His movements and dramatics didn't captivate the audience as it used to. He felt disappointment and dread. If he couldn't do this anymore, there was nothing left for him. There was not a plan B in his life.

As his show finished, Brendon even realized the amount of money thrown on the stage was less than usual. He was pissed now. He did not realize before what the consequences of losing his popularity would be. Now, he saw it clearly, and the consequences were unfavorable.

After he was settled in the locker room again, he was approached by Mikey. He felt pure rage just by seeing his face, because he believed his spot was unfairly swept from under him. Mikey was the one who was cutting his shifts, and now he can't come back from where he had fallen. But he suppressed his anger.

"Brendon, it's been an honor to have you here," Mikey spoke, not an ounce of sympathy in his voice. It was clear to Brendon what he was going to do. "But Club Overpass no longer requires your services. You are fired."

Brendon wanted to protest, wanted to scream that it wasn't fair. Why was he being fired anyway? It didn't matter. All he knew was that it was Gerard's fault. Gerard had just been called out for his show, and the roaring applause from the audience far surpassed Brendon's.

If he was already fired, he might as well make the most of it. He stared at Mikey, the man's lack of emotion disturbing him and angering him. Brendon drew his hand into a fist, anf punched his ex boss right in the face.

Mikey recoiled, hitting one of the lockers. "Security!" he called, a groan interlaced in the words.

Security quickly came to get Brendon, escorting him out of the club. He growled as they threw him out and walked back in. The message was clear: get out of here before we do worse.

Fine. Brendon understood. As he walked home, he thought about what he could do. Without the club, he had no source of income. Without income, he can't live. He tried to think of a solution.

**Ryan: i'm going to bed early. have a good night's sleep, love xx.**

As he read the text, he finally had the solution. Ryan Ross. The original plan with him was to date him, and then break his heart or something. Recently, he ditched out on the breaking his heart part of the plan, because he was distracted by his own feelings. Now, he refined the plan to suit his needs.

He was going to date Ryan, and probably date him for the rest of his life. Ryan would take care of him, would make it so he no longer needed to get a job or anything. He would unknowingly be Brendon's source of income.

Just like in the first plan though, he didn't know what to do about Dallon. He was still an unknown variable, because Brendon hadn't lied when he told him that he loved him.

As he got into his apartment, his phone rang. "Hello?" he answered.

"I heard about what happened at the club," Dallon replied, not bothering to introduce himself.

"Yeah, it was shitty," Brendon sighed. At least he got to punch Mikey, though.

"It was unfair!" Dallon exclaimed. "See, when we were closing, I heard some rumors. Apparently Gerard beat you and got first place because he's been sleeping with some of the regular's. He practically admitted it too, with no shame."

Brendon thought about it for a minute. At first, he seemed unbelievable, but it definitely would give Gerard that push of popularity. He did what Brendon would never do: fuck the clients.

To him, fucking was the difference between strippers and prostitutes. If Gerard had really done that, then Brendon held no respect for him anymore. But the fact is, that comes from his overall disgust towards sex in general. Some people just had less morals than him.

Before he knew this, he did respect Gerard for beating him. He was mad he got fired, not that he was beaten. Now, he was disgusted by his desperation. Was he really that desperate to sell himself? Then, Brendon realized he planned to sell himself in a way, so he stopped thinking about it.

"That's crazy," Brendon replied. "Before, I just thought it was unfair 'cause Mikey cut a lot of my shifts."

"That too," Dallon replied. "Maybe there is some favoritism there?"

"I have no idea," Brendon sighed. He felt the stress come to him again. Tonight had been an emotional night.

"Well, I'll talk to you tomorrow. I just wanted to let you know," Dallon said, after a moment of silence. Then, like an afterthought, he added, "I love you."

The words were quiet, but made Brendon smile nonetheless. "I love you too, Dal."

He wondered how he could even say that, when he knew his own plan. Dallon hung up after that, and Brendon was left to his own devices.

He took his phone out and went to his messages with Dallon, wanting to give his love closure. Then, he would respond to Ryan's earlier message.

**Brendon: I just want to let you know I really do love you. Ryan means nothing to me in comparison to you.**

**Brendon: And that's what makes me the asshole. Maybe I did play with your feelings, I don't know. Just know that I was true, that I do love you, no matter how far I stray.**

**Brendon: I'm taking this thing with Ryan further than I want to. I will become what I hate.**

Then, he went back to Ryan's message and read it over again before replying. The kisses on the end of Ryan's text inspired him.

**Brendon: Thanks, love xx :). I had a rough night, but you made me feel better. I can't wait to see you again.**


	9. Loveless Marriages

Ryan was on cloud nine, which was very evident. If Brendon didn't know any better, he would say the man was on drugs.

"I guess this means I won, right?" Ryan smiled, sending a rush of shame down Brendon's spine.

Brendon ignored it, smiling at him with fondness. "Yeah, I guess so," he said.

When Brendon got the chance to, he had practically ran over to Ryan's house. Once Ryan opened the door, he had confessed his "undying love" for him. It was as mushy as could be.

Brendon didn't really know how to make it convincing. He added some stuff about how getting to know him revealed a different side, how he fell in love so quickly.

Ryan believed it. He sat there with a huge smile on his face, just believing it all to be facts. Brendon couldn't believe he was so naivé.

Once they were situated on Ryan's sofa, which was very plush and comfortable, Brendon decided to be slightly honest with him. "I got fired from the strip club," he told him.

"Really?" Ryan questioned, with widened honey eyes. He seemed to be genuinely surprised. "From what I recall, you had them all watching your every move."

"Sometimes that's not enough," Brendon replied bitterly, almost snarling. He recalled how he had been fired, how unfair it all was. "You have to give more than I was willing to."

"Give what?"

It took a moment for him to admit it. "Sex," he said, shrugging. "Rumors at the club spread that this stripper who took my place started fucking the regular's."

"And you would never do that," Ryan realized, probably remembering the pathetic excuse of a lapdance he had received. That seemed so long ago, a time where Brendon wasn't so conflicted, hadn't felt love towards Dallon.

"No." A sigh left Brendon's plump lips. He felt Ryan's hand on his shoulder, like a reassuring presence. It was sad that he wished for someone else to take his place. It was sad that Brendon was going this low.

Then, Brendon looked up, glancing at the man with mischevious eyes. Distractions were what started this mess, and he was going to continue using them. Especially when he had to pretend.

"You know what I noticed, Ry?" Brendon purred, watching as Ryan gulped. "We haven't been very... intimate."

"You don't do sex," Ryan reminded him, looking at him in confusion.

"Oh, Ry. Sex isn't required to have fun."

And they were distracted for a long while: Ryan was lost in his lust for the beautiful man beside him, and Brendon was lost in his silent grief for what he never got to have.

\---

As months passed by, Brendon was heavily involved with Ryan's businesses. At first, he was just a listening ear to make sure he was thinking logically. Then, Ryan allowed him to get involved within the business, dealing with more of the complex operations.

Together, they ran Ryan's businesses. It was clear to every passerby that they worked together well, through their love for each other. Ryan couldn't believe how happy he was.

Obviously, Brendon moved out of his apartment into Ryan's home very early on into their relationship. They didn't see the point of him having the apartment, considering that Brendon barely spent time there.

As a few years passed by, Ryan realized he didn't want to live without Brendon. Brendon Urie was his soulmate, the man he was destined to be with, the man who had interested him by the first glance.

He bought a ring. It was simple, but beautiful. Brendon never really liked him going all out with his wealth, so Ryan knew his love would prefer this kind of ring.

One late night in, after watching Mean Girls for the millionth time, Ryan tapped Brendon's shoulder. Brendon looked over to him, and gasped when he found Ryan on one knee.

"My love," Ryan smiled. "Brendon, ever since I met you at Club Overpass, I wanted to know you. You seemed so different, so unique. Now that I have gotten to know you, I know I was right. I love you with all my heart, and I want to grow old together." He licked his lips, and swallowed his nerves. "Will you marry me?"

Every instinct Brendon had said to scream no. He couldn't love Ryan the way he loved him, couldn't feel that way. Though he had wanted this desperately, looking at Ryan made him realize everything was a mistake. Again.

See, Ryan was too good for him. He was occasionally an asshole, and didn't really understand every point of view. But he was genuine, and meant well. Unlike Brendon.

Every kiss they had shared was a lie. Every declaration of "I love you" falling from Brendon's lips was a lie. Everything was so wrong, and so much of a lie.

"Yes!" Brendon screamed, despite his instincts. He rushed towards him, hugging Ryan with all he had. Ryan smiled into his neck, leaving a kiss there.

"You make me so happy," Ryan added, and apparently he wasn't done yet. Brendon wanted to tell him to stop, that he didn't deserve it.

"Well, Ry," he said, his voice lowering an octave. He could practically feel Ryan shiver. "Let's celebrate."

Brendon pushed him down on the sofa, kissing him with a passion he hoped was convincing. Just like before, he thought distractions were convenient. He thought that being intimate in some way would be important to be convincing.

Their hips grinded against each other, as Ryan took control. He pulled away from the kiss, deciding to direct his attention to Brendon's neck.

He was too far gone.

\---

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Ryan smiled. "I do."

"And do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the priest asked, gesturing to Brendon.

"I do," Brendon answered.

"You may now kiss the groom."

Ryan leaned in forward and kissed him softly. Brendon was feeling less conflicted as the days passed by.

He looked at the guests of their wedding, beaming at them. He played the part of adoring groom. His gaze was focused, trying to spot out a specific man.

He never saw him. Though he had sent an invitation to him, Dallon didn't show up to his wedding.

Brendon wasn't sure if he wanted him to or not.


	10. Epilogue

**YEARS LATER**

"Wentz, you better not be slacking!"

"Sorry, Mr. Ross," the man apologized. "Won't happen again."

Knowing him, it would totally happen again. Brendon cursed, mad that Ryan pushed branching into the music industry so hard.

Their business had stretched over to include making instruments and instrument parts. Ryan, after rekindling his love for music, decided this would be beneficial because it was an easy market.

Brendon agreed with him easily. Music had become one of his interests as well. It had been in his teen years, but after he got kicked out, he couldn't really pay attention to that interest. Now, he played instruments on his off time, and sometimes sang along.

Ryan swore he had the voice of an angel. He was flattered, but didn't really believe it himself. He would rather focus on the instruments.

Brendon went to the front of the store, relishing in what they had accomplished. So far, this business was primarily online, but they recently opened up the store. "Ross' Instrument Department" was an instant success.

But their success didn't change the fact that he was surprised to see the man who was right by the counter. Brendon didn't know how to feel, for he was confronted with his former love. "Dallon?" he choked out.

"Brendon," Dallon replied, smiling. "Hey. Haven't seen you in a while."

Brendon nodded. They haven't really talked since back before the wedding, not because they lost their connection, but more because Ryan came between it. Facing him now, Brendon wasn't sure what to feel. He had pushed his feeling's for Dallon away, but knew they were never really gone. He just always tried to focus on Ryan.

"Yeah. Things have been.. crazy."

Dallon averted his eyes, looking around at the instruments. "So I've been looking for a bass," he began, ignoring their history and his obvious pain. "See, I'm in this band--."

"IDKHow," Brendon recalled, interrupting the other man. "Yeah."

It was obvious Dallon was surprised. "You know about that?"

"Of course," Brendon responded. Back when they were friends, Dallon had expressed interest in music. Due to his financial situation, he couldn't pursue it. Brendon was glad he could now; he had followed his band since practically the beginning, and was proud of his success.

Dallon tried to recover, and go back to explaining what he came for. "I just need like a temporary bass," he explained. "Mine got stolen."

Brendon nodded. He'd heard about that as well, but he certainly never thought Dallon would try to buy from his store. Though he could pretend, Brendon knew him stopping at this store was out of sentiment. He led the taller man over to the bass', allowing him to look around.

"You're looking good as usual, Urie," Dallon said, while still paying attention to the display. He must've held that back since the beginning of the conversation.

"Ross," Brendon reminded him. "Not really a Urie anymore."

When they got married, Brendon quickly decided he would rather have his last name changed than continue with Urie. Urie just reminded him of his family, and that was a terrible path of memory lane. Becoming a Ross was easier than having the burden of carrying the last name of a family that abandoned him.

"You're still Urie to me," Dallon commented, turning back to look at him. "I haven't forgotten what you said, you know."

Brendon's lips twitched. "Looks like I might have, though. Care to remind me?"

"You never felt anything for him." Dallon's words were harsh, and hit right to the point. He wanted to deny it, but there was no point to doing that.

"And?" Brendon questioned. He knew how to hurt him, and he's known for years. "Don't obsess over it. It is what it is, and maybe you should've accepted that instead of hiding from me."

Dallon flinched, and his jaw clenched. It was obvious that he was just angry now. "I don't understand you. You kept saying you loved me, yet you never chose me."

And wasn't that the problem? Everything's good with Ryan. Ryan treated him well, never did or said anything that was out of line. He pampered him, and yet, Brendon never loved him. He never loved him like he loved Dallon.

In another life, maybe he did choose Dallon. In another life, maybe he didn't make such the big mistake of marrying Ryan Ross, the man he had at first hated.

"Before you, I was convinced I could never love," Brendon told him, pained. "I wish things were that simple."

"Things can be simple!" Dallon protested. "I still love you despite all the shit you put me through. Tell me honestly: do you still love me?"

It was the question that Brendon always avoided, despite constantly being in his mind. It wouldn't matter how he felt, because he still had Ryan. But that wasn't the purpose of this question; it seemed like Dallon just wanted relief, confirmation he was right.

"Yes, I still love you," Brendon said, and meant it. "But what do you expect me to do?"

"Divorce him. Stop living a lie."

It was the best argument anyone could've put up. Every day of his life was a fucking lie, and he was so tired of it. He decided Dallon's idea did have some merit, but needed to think about it more. He told Dallon that, and helped him find the bass he was looking for.

When he got home, he knew Dallon was right. The rich life never suited him, he just wanted to not struggle everyday of his existence.

He told Ryan he wanted a divorce because he didn't feel the same anymore.

Ryan smiled bitterly. "I had a feeling the spark was gone for you. I won't hold you back, though I should."

He should've wanted vengeance, but he didn't want to hurt Brendon after everything. He knew Brendon would be happier without him, though he didn't want to admit it.

Brendon did succeed in breaking his heart, like his first plan entailed. But he wished he could have avoided that.

By the end of the month, Brendon was back to living in a small apartment. Ryan still let him work for the music branch of his business, so it was perfect. There was never going to be a time where Brendon struggled for money and resorted to stripping.

And he had Dallon back too. After IDKHow finished their current tour, the two sat down and had a long talk about everything.

They were together now. They never were before, never had the label. For once, being someone's boyfriend made Brendon ecstatic. He kissed Dallon again, having missed doing that over the years.

It was hard to believe that everything started because of Club Overpass, which had shut down two years ago. Gerard had retired from being a stripper after contracting an STD, and after that, the club just went downhill. Mikey's other sources of income, such as being a drug dealer, couldn't keep the club alive.

Club Overpass may have been his beginning, but it certainly wasn't Brendon's ending, and he was glad about that. Years later, he would also be glad to ditch the surname Urie again, exchanging it for Weekes.


End file.
